By Simone Wallace
It used to soar above the sandy dunes in the salted summer sea air. The kite had green and black stripes around the edges and an iris in the middle. It was the best gift my father gave me. One night, I dreamed I slept in a cocoon and woke up a kite, tethered by a thin steel thread to a spool held by my father’s strong hands.
Now, it lies limp, lifeless and covered in mud.
The policeman takes off his cap:
“Andrew, there’s been an accident. Your father…”
His voice drags on like the snapped string of my kite.
Great read.
Thank you very much.
Absolutely brilliant story! Poignant and well executed. Bravo!
Thank you, Carol. It is my first flash fiction story so I am delighted you like it.
Wonderful metaphor.
Thank you. Don’t you just wish sometimes that you could fly?
beautiful
Thank you.
Beautifully executed- Well done.
Thank you. I greatly enjoyed writing it.
A take of love and sadness. Well done.
Thank you very much.
Poignant story. Loved it. Well done.
Thanks a lot.
Good one Simone, well done!
Thank you Marc.
Beautiful. Love it…..
Thank you very much.
This is – quite simply – brilliant. The metaphor is superb.